


The weight of us both

by givebackmylifecas



Series: Safe to fall [1]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Berlin lives, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas
Summary: Martín clutches his daemon to his chest, unwilling to show his nerves.“It’ll be okay,” Luca whispers to him. “Andrés means nothing to us now.”Martín nods and allows Sergio to lead them into the kitchen where the rest of the 'gang' are waiting.The His Dark Materials/Daemon AU every fandom needs but no one asked forSet in season 3 and 4 if Berlin were still alive and everyone had Daemons
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Safe to fall [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817773
Comments: 92
Kudos: 209





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with more angst (and a happy ending).  
> This is an AU where everyone has daemons as imagined by Phillip Pullman in his "His Dark Materials" trilogy. if you don't know what they are, here's the basic idea:  
> \- daemons are a manifestation of a person's soul/inner self and present physically as animals  
> \- the animal is specific to the person although they can change their shape at will up until puberty when they settle in their final animal form  
> \- daemons are usually the opposite sex to their person  
> \- daemons talk to their person and other daemons but rarely to other people  
> \- touching another person's daemon is taboo unless they're super close and have permission. daemons can interact freely with each other though  
> \- oh and daemon's can physically only be a few meters from their person or they're both in pain  
> LMK if there's anything else i should add  
> Song title from Snow Patrol's song "how to be dead!  
> No TWs as yet

When Martín opens the door and sees a raven outside his apartment he briefly considers the fact that he may be hallucinating – although inserting himself into an Edgar Allen Poe poem seems a little out of character for him. Then he looks past the raven and sees Sergio.

“Ugh,” he groans. “What do you want?”

He leaves the door open and staggers back into his living room. Luca only just manages to dart out of his way as Martín collapses on the sofa. Luca crawls up onto the backrest, only to slide down again and curl up on Martín’s chest as soon has he’s horizontal.

Sergio carefully walks in, Quinn now perched on his shoulder, her dark wings tucked tightly against her body. “How are you Martín?” he asks as he carefully takes a seat.

Martín shrugs, fingers curling in Luca’s orange fur. “Fine.”

“No you aren’t,” Luca says quietly and Martín shushes him.

Sergio hesitates before speaking again. “I’m sorry to have come all the way here to bother you, but I need your help.”

“I thought we were too unstable to be of any help?” Martín spits, still concentrating on Luca’s comforting warmth.

“I’m sorry about that, but you know I was right. The mint heist wasn’t right for you, you didn’t want to do it anyway!” Sergio insists, his eyes wide behind his glasses. If Martín weren’t quite so drunk, he might try and punch him.

He sits up and Luca digs his claws into his shirt so he’s hanging off Martín’s chest, lower body resting on his lap. “You weren’t right. You just knew Andrés would never do your soulless heist if there was still a chance at melting gold with me!”

Quinn ruffles her feather’s warningly and Luca climbs up Martín to drape himself around his shoulders. Sergio raises a hand placatingly. “Yes, you’re right, that was part of it. I needed Andrés there with me. And now, I – we – need your help. One of our gang was taken by the authorities. They haven’t reported it, which means…”

“It means they’re probably torturing him,” Martín finishes and Sergio nods, stroking Quinn’s feathers in a rare attempt at self-comfort. Martín looks at Luca, who bares his sharp teeth. “What do you need us for?”

Sergio’s face brightens a little. “We have a way to get him out. We’re going to break into the Bank of Spain – and we can’t do it without you.”

“Is Andrés going to be there?” Luca asks in Martín’s ear, whiskers tickling his neck. Martín relays the question, trying not to show that he cares what the answer is.

“Well, yes,” Sergio says nervously. “The whole gang is. Some old friends of yours too.”

Martín clenches his jaw as Luca rubs his furry face against his neck. “Fine, I’ll do it. But this is my plan, I don’t want one of your little robbers telling me what to do.”

“Agreed,” Sergio says. “Can you come with me right away?”

“Sure,” Martín says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Let me shower and grab some stuff.”

Forty-five minutes later, he and Luca are in Sergio’s car and on their way to the monastery. Quinn is perched on the back of Sergio’s seat, occasionally rubbing her beak through his dark hair as if searching for insects. It makes Martín itch and he focusses on Luca who is draped across his lap, which he’s really too big to fit on comfortably. He rubs between his ears and Luca starts purring very quietly.

It’s not awkward exactly, sitting in the car with Sergio. They were friends once after all. Martín remembers long nights sitting with him, the two of them discussing equations and theories until they were too drunk to make any sense. Sergio was funny when he was drunk and it affected Quinn in a way that Martín’s drinking had never done to Luca. She would hop all over the nearest flat surface, pecking for invisible bugs which made Martín howl with laughter.

It takes them the whole evening, night, and the better part of the morning to drive to the monastery. By the halfway point, Martín has sobered up enough to take over some of the driving. When they finally arrive, it’s nine in the morning and Martín is dead on his feet.

“Welcome back,” Sergio says with a nervous smile and Martín scowls at him.

He grabs his bag and follows Luca into the main building. Sergio hurries after them, but Quinn swoops ahead.

Martín ducks when a hawk zooms over their heads, turning and joining Quinn in the air, the two of them immediately starting to chatter.

“He belong to your girl?” Martín asks Sergio, jerking his head at the newcomer.

Sergio nods. “Raquel’s yes. Uh, Lisbon is her name now. That’s Deunoro, Quinn says he told her that everyone’s in the kitchen.”

From Martín’s recollection, the kitchen is just behind the slightly ajar door ahead of them. He drops his bag beside the door and opens his arms. Luca immediately stops watching Quinn and Deunoro, who are perched on top of the door, and gracefully leaps into Martín’s arms, pressing his head under his chin.

Martín clutches his daemon to his chest, unwilling to show his nerves.

“It’ll be okay,” Luca whispers to him. “Andrés means nothing to us now.”

Martín nods and allows Sergio to lead them into the kitchen.

The room seems to overflow with people and daemons, all gathered around the table where Martín had once spent days upon days with Andrés and Sergio.

“Everyone, this is Palermo,” Sergio introduces. “Palermo, you already know Berlin, Bogota, and Marseille.”

Martín nods, smiling at Bogota and Marseille, truly glad to see them again after all these years. He doesn’t bother looking at Andrés – Berlin as he’s now to call him.

Sergio starts pointing out the others. “This is Lisbon, my partner. That’s Denver and Stockholm, and their son Cincinnati. And this is Nairobi, Helsinki, and Tokyo.”

The others all give variations of greetings, not all their daemons immediately visible.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Martín says as Luca turns in his arms, long neck stretched out to be able to survey the room better.

“Um no offense, but what is type of animal is your daemon? Is she some kind of giant weasel?” the man with short curly hair asks – Denver, Martín thinks he’s called. His daemon is a grey parrot and it cackles making Luca turn his head, lips pulled back to expose his teeth.

“His name is Luca and he is a jaguarundi. They’re a cat native to South America,” a voice from the other end of the end of the kitchen says and everyone turns to look at Andrés. He’s reclining casually in his chair, Aethra, his arctic fox daemon, at his feet.

“Your daemon is male?” the woman with short cropped hair – Tokyo, Luca supplies – asks.

Martín scowls at her. “Is that a problem?” He’s used to having people being confused by Luca. For one, even in Argentina they got weird looks when Luca finally settled in such a rare form, and the fact that Martín had a same-gender demon had always meant trouble for them from a young age.

Tokyo raises her hands, shaking her head. “No problem, Helsinki’s is too.” She jerks her head at the big man in the corner, who is serenely feeding bacon to what Martín is fairly sure is a jackal.

“Do you guys want some breakfast?” Lisbon asks. “There’s still some toast left.”

Sergio gives Martín a look that tells him he isn’t allowed to say no and to be fair, he is pretty hungry as well. Two more chairs are produced and after some general shuffling, Martín and Luca find themselves wedged between Helsinki and Bogota. Luca immediately starts talking to Pamela, Bogota’s otter daemon, although it doesn’t escape Martín’s notice how he keeps looking over his shoulder at Helsinki’s jackal.

Across the table, Andrés is drinking coffee, entertaining polite conversation with Lisbon. Martín’s stomach twists. He doesn’t know what he expected and just straight up ignoring him except for outing him to everyone was pretty in character for Andrés. But Martín was the one who was hurt, by rights, he should be ignoring Andrés.

Luca has seemingly grown bored of talking to Pamela, whom he had always considered rather crude and was now nearing Helsinki’s jackal. Martín strokes a hand over his long body and Luca jumps off his lap, standing on his hind legs in front of the jackal.

Martín glances at Helsinki who is smiling at their daemons’ interactions. “Dušan likes him,” he says, when he notices Martín watching.

“At least Luca is good at making friends,” Martín says, half-jokingly.

“Oh, I’m sure you are too,” Helsinki says and Martín raises his eyebrows.

If this were a bar, he would assume Helsinki were flirting, but the other man just looks sincere. Luca, bold as brass, climbs right onto Dušan’s back. Martín blushes.

“Sorry, he can be a bit overeager sometimes,” he says and Helsinki laughs.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but stops when they both become aware of a rumbling sound coming from under the table.

Andrés’ daemon Aethra is stalking towards Dušan and Luca, her snout wrinkled as she growls at them. Across from them, Andrés is still talking to Lisbon as if entirely unaware of what his daemon is doing.

Dušan starts to shuffle away, Luca still on his back, despite Aethra’s inferior size. Luca jumps onto the floor, effectively putting himself in front of Aethra who is still growling.

He ignores the noise she is making and walks right over to her, rubbing his head under her chin. Martín winces. The night Andrés… asked him to leave, Luca bit Aethra hard enough to make her squeal, no doubt she hasn’t forgotten.

However, she stops growling and licks the top of Luca’s head, flattening his ears with her tongue. Luca is actually taller when they’re both standing, but soon they’re both pressed to the ground and Aethra is letting Luca groom her, nuzzling his fur every now and then.

“They’ve known each other a long time,” Martín mumbles into his toast and Helsinki just nods.

After breakfast – during which Andrés doesn’t once look at Martín – Martín drags Luca away from Aethra and excuses himself to put away his things.

Luca prowls along the hall in front of him, automatically heading to their old room.

“It’s weird to be back, isn’t it?” he asks and Martín nods as they enter their room.

When they left, they’d also left a lot of their things, most of which still seem to be here. Martín ignores the sketch of Luca in the corner, that Andrés had gifted him one summer, instead unpacking his bag.

Luca stalks around the room, investigating every nook and cranny.

When Martín has put away most of his things, he flops onto the bed. Luca quickly joins him, stretching his long body along Martín’s chest, resting his head on Martín’s throat.

“Are you okay?” Luca asks, whiskers brushing against Martín’s skin.

Martín sighs, stroking Luca’s back. “I don’t know. I don’t like being here like this, I don’t like Andrés ignoring me when he’s the one who hurt me.”

Luca huffs in an imitation of a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, angel,” Martín reassures him. “But you can’t play with Aethra like that.”

“Why not?” Luca demands, claws tightening in the fabric of Martín’s shirt. “She wants to be friends. She didn’t want us to go away in the first place.”

Martín stops his stroking. “You never told me that.”

“I didn’t think it mattered. Daemon’s aren’t their humans.”

“That’s true. Andrés certainly wanted us gone. Or me anyway, I don’t think he particularly disliked you.”

He tries to ignore how Luca preens at that. “He never touched Eder, or let Tatiana touch Aethra.”

“Well, Eder was a butterfly,” Martín reasons. “He must have been hard to touch. And how could you possibly know if Tatiana touched Aethra?”

“Because Aethra told me she wouldn’t let her. But she didn’t mind you touching her a couple times. And I liked it when Andrés touched me,” Luca insists.

Martín shivers, remembering how soft Aethra’s fur had felt on those rare occasions, how warmth flooded him when Andrés picked Luca up for the first time. “Well, that doesn’t matter now. Andrés has made it perfectly clear how he feels.”

“He said you were soulmates,” Luca reminds him, as if those words hadn’t haunted Martín for five years.

Martín wipes the tears that were stubbornly escaping his closed eyes and making their way down his face. “Yes, and even that wasn’t enough for him to want me,” he says and Luca makes a mournful sound, rubbing his face against Martín’s. “I just wasn’t good enough.”

Martín presses the heels of his hands against his eyes in an effort to stop crying, while Luca’s rough tongue scrapes across his skin.

“It’s his loss,” Luca tells him and Martín lets out a hiccupping sob.

“Clearly not,” he sniffs. “He’s fine and look at me, crying over something that happened years ago.” Luca doesn’t say anything, continuing to groom Martín in an attempt to comfort him. “I’m going to try and avoid him so please… just do your best to stay away from Aethra?”

Luca sighs. “Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll try for you.”

* * *

**5 Years Earlier**

“How do I look?” Andrés asks, straightening his suit and Martín turns to look at him.

On the bed behind Andrés, Luca and Aethra are curled around each other like a ginger and white spiral.

Martín leans back in his chair. “Powerful,” he tells Andrés. “Beautiful,” he confesses.

Andrés smiles, running a hand over both Luca and Aethra before stepping towards Martín. The gesture makes Martín shiver, warmth trickling down his spine as Andrés’ fingers brush over Luca’s fur.

“Martín,” Andrés says as Martín returns to his work. “For years you’ve been going around in circles feeling this way.”

Martín’s chest tightens, his heart pounding as Andrés moves towards him. He tries to act nonchalant, keeping his body language open, whilst desperately wishing he could hold Luca.

“I think it’s time you moved on,” Andrés says and Martín tries not to panic.

“We can move on to wine, if you like,” he quips, grabbing the bottle from beside his desk.

Andrés shuts him down immediately. “I’m not drinking that with you. I’m going to dinner. With Tatiana.” Martín swallows his disappointment as Andrés continues. “You’ll think about me, but I won’t think about you.”

Martín puts his pen down, trying to ignore how his hands are shaking. Across the room, Luca raises his head, body still entwined with Aethra’s. “You don’t have to spell it out for me,” Martín says. “It’s clear.”

Aethra lets out a little whine and Luca nuzzles her as Andrés rolls his eyes. “Oh please, you think I don’t love you? I also feel that what we have between us is extraordinary, unique, wonderful. I know about love, I’ve been married five times.”

“Okay,” Martín says, his head spinning.

“What I’ve never told you,” Andrés says seriously. “Is that I’ve never felt anything with those women remotely similar to what I have with you.”

Martín’s on his feet before he knows it, unable to believe what he’s hearing.

“Not even close,” Andrés continues with a little smile. “You and I are soulmates,” he says and Martín thinks his heart might beat right out of his chest. “But only ninety-nine percent. As you know, I really like women. And you like me too much.”

Luca hisses, ignoring how Aethra licks the fur on his neck, but Martín can’t look away from Andrés.

“And what’s one percent against ninety-nine?” Martín asks, summoning his courage as he steps towards Andrés. “Unless you’re not brave enough to try it.”

Andrés actually has the audacity to smile as if Martín had just cracked a joke. “That one percent is a tiny mitochondrion, but it defines my desire.”

Martín spares a glance at Aethra who is nuzzling Luca and it gives him the hope he needs. “Mitochondria,” he repeats, closing the gap between himself and Andrés. “Where is your desire? Is it here?”

He runs his fingers across Andrés’ face just like he’d always wanted to, enjoying the way Andrés whispers his name.

“Don’t worry, relax,” Martín says, but he doesn’t know if he’s saying it to Andrés or himself. “Don’t be afraid.”

He needs to go up on the balls of his feet to bring his face up to Andrés’ height, but he uses the hand he has on Andrés’ neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s raw, all-consuming and Martín nearly cries when Andrés kisses back.

“You’re a coward, huh?” he asks, leaning in for another kiss, and then another, but his courage leaves him when Andrés doesn’t respond.

His hands slip from Andrés’ body and he prepares for a rejection, except then Andrés is walking him backwards. Martín’s shoulders hit the wall and Andrés is on him, devouring him, his hands framing Martín’s face.

Martín wraps his arms around Andrés, desperate to hold on to him, needing to feel him in his arms, to know that this is real.

But then Andrés is pulling away, his hands still gentle on Martín’s face and Martín knows what’s about to happen, knows if Andrés leaves now, he’s never coming back.

“I’d give anything to feel that,” Andrés whispers and Martín tries to kiss him again but it’s not the same. “It’s impossible,” Andrés tells him and Martín didn’t realise that heartbreak was a physical thing until he feels his heart split in two in his chest.

Luca howls and Martín wants to run, wants to clutch Andrés to his chest and cover his mouth, wants to stop whatever is about to happen.

“I love you, Martín,” Andrés tells him and it’s the cruellest possible thing he could have said. “But my brother is right, we have to part ways. And we have to scrap the plan.”

Martín nods, his body flooding with anger towards Sergio. “Your son of a bitch brother, told you I was in love with you to break up this house,” he accuses. “You’re going to make photocopies in the Royal Mint, right? I suggested melting gold together!” Martín looks over at Luca who is curled up in a ball, ignoring Aethra nudging him. “I let you touch Luca!”

“And I let you touch Aethra. But you’re hooked on something that will never exist!” Andrés says, not even turning to look at him. “I have to leave you. It’s for love, for brotherhood. For the commitment I have to you. Leave and heal the wound. Sometimes distance is the only way to find peace.”

Martín lets out a sob and Andrés just keeps talking. “I’m sure that one way or another, time will bring us back together.”

He turns to go and Martín watches as Andrés stops halfway down the hall.

“Aethra,” Andrés calls and Martín turns to see that Andrés’ daemon is still nudging Luca. “Aethra come!”

Aethra ignores him and Martín almost hopes it means that Andrés will stay. But then Luca suddenly turns and bites Aethra on the leg, hard enough to make her squeal. She jumps off the bed, limping towards Andrés who has gone white as a sheet. When she reaches Andrés, he crouches and picks her up, her white fur a stark contrast to his black overcoat and the two of them leave without another word.

Martín sinks to the ground and immediately Luca is there, climbing up Martín, his face nuzzling every bit of skin he can reach.

“He’s gone,” Martín whimpers. “It’s over. Ten years of friendship and it’s over.”

Luca whines. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay. I’m here, we still have each other.”

“What does it matter? We have to go and we’re never going to see Andrés again.”

“Don’t say that,” Luca scolds, his tone still gentle as he paws at Martín. “He’s not the centre of the universe.”

Martín sobs, his tears dampening Luca’s fur. “I don’t understand. If he loves me, why is he leaving?”

“I don’t know, querido,” Luca says honestly.

“What do we do now?” Martín asks as Luca tries in vain to clean up his tears. “What do we do without him, without Aethra?”

Luca mewls at the mention of Aethra and Martín presses him to his chest. “We leave,” Luca says, his whiskers moving against Martín’s damp neck. “We pack our things and put as many miles between us and Andrés de Fonollosa as we can and we learn to live without him, without them.”

“I don’t think I can,” Martín admits and Luca presses his forehead to Martín’s jaw.

“Of course you can. We can do anything together, you and I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this! I'll update tags as i go and also like i said at the beginning, lmk if there's any info about daemons i should add. I owe so much thanks to my clamb Klembek for helping me figure out everyone's daemons and their respective names!!
> 
> Also if anyone was wondering, Luca is a red [jaguarundi](https://dinoanimals.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/Jaguarondi4.jpg) which are about twice the size of normal house cats but basically look like smaller versions of cougars and are native to Argentina and other South American countries. They're also sometimes up to 120cm (4 foot) long if you include their tails, which i imagine Luca is


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anddd we're back  
> TWs for canon-typical violence (and Andrés being a dick)

“I honestly don’t understand why you’re angry at me,” Martín says as he watches Luca vigorously groom himself.

Luca glares as much as a jaguarundi can and pauses his cleaning. “Because you shouldn’t be sleeping with Helsinki.”

“I thought you liked him and Dušon?”

“I do,” Luca insists. “But Helsinki really likes you. And you still really like Andrés!”

Martín sighs. “We’ve only been hooking up, Helsinki’s heart isn’t in danger.”

“Yours is,” Luca mutters and Martín throws a pen at him.

“That’s enough from you. Now come over here and tell me whether these calculations look right.”

Luca jumps off the bench he’d been lounging on and runs across the grass. Martín’s lying on his stomach, going over some of the heist plans and trying to soak up some sun and Luca drapes himself on his back, head hanging over his shoulder so he can see the equations.

“Your multiplications are off in the last line,” he points out and Martín sighs when he sees his daemon is right.

“I hate you.”

“Whatever you say,” Luca says, shuffling back so he can curl up in the dip of Martín’s lower back.

Martín looks up when he hears footsteps approaching. Denver and Stockholm, each holding one of Cincinnati’s hands, walk over, settling on the bench Luca vacated.

“I hope this isn’t rude to ask,” Stockholm starts, picking up her hare daemon. “But Felix just said that Luca corrected your equations. I’ve never met a daemon who can do that.”

Martín shrugs. “We spent a lot of time alone. It made sense to teach him the basics so that I had someone to bounce ideas off.”

Denver looks confused, cocking his head in an unconscious mirror of his parrot daemon Portia. “So like… anyone could teach their daemon maths?”

“I suppose so? I think the human needs to be good at it too though, it’s not a case of the daemon being smarter than the person,” Martín says, trying not to sound like he’s telling Denver that he’s too stupid teach Portia maths.

Stockholm looks like she knows just what Martín is really saying and distracts Denver by pointing out that Cincinnati’s daemon is doing her best to copy Luca’s appearance, but just ends up looking like a tiny fox.

Martín goes back to his work, tuning out the sound of their conversation successfully until Luca suddenly jumps off his back. He turns to see what has happened to his daemon and sees Aethra trotting towards the group.

Luca looks hesitantly between Aethra and Martín, clearly wanting to go and play with her. Martín sighs and then makes a shooing gesture. Luca darts forward, immediately jumping on Aethra and the two of them go tumbling across the grass.

Portia, who is perched on Felix’s back makes a laughing noise and Martín sits up, trying to work out where exactly Andrés is. He eventually spots him, leaning in one of the doorways to the monastery, talking to Sergio. Suddenly he turns, making direct eye-contact with Martín who ducks his head.

The two of them still haven’t really spoken, not outside of any discussions about the heist and Martín hates how being around Andrés still affects him. Luca, who still gets to buddy about with Aethra, does his best to listen and understand, but at the end of the day daemons aren’t humans and some things perplex even him.

The closer they get to the day of the heist, the more Martín stresses about him and Andrés. The night all those years ago still doesn’t make sense to him and if he were a braver man, he’d confront Andrés about it. But he’s afraid. Afraid that the words he’s been clinging to all these years – that Andrés loves him, that they’re soulmates – will be revoked, laughed off, claimed as lies.

“So uh, they seem close,” Denver says, looking at Luca and Aethra.

Martín gives a curt nod, gathering his stuff. “Yes, well. They’re just not used to seeing each other so often.”

He gets to his feet and starts walking away from Denver and Stockholm. He feels a sharp tug in his chest when he reaches the end of the invisible tether that ties him to Luca, but thankfully the feeling eases immediately and moments later he feels Luca jump onto his back. His daemon clings to his shirt – no doubt creating more holes – and he makes sure to enter the monastery by a different door so as to avoid Andrés.

“Where are we going?” Luca asks.

Martín shrugs, nearly dislodging Luca who is climbing him so he can take his preferred position, draped across his shoulders. “Let’s see what Helsinki and Dušan are up to.”

“Ugh,” Luca complains. “I think they’re with Bogota and Nairobi. Pamela is so boring and Prospero doesn’t like me.”

“Yes but that’s just because Nairobi has a crush on Helsinki and she’s jealous,” Martín says spitefully. “It has nothing to do with you, querido.”

“Another reason you shouldn’t be fucking Helsinki,” Luca mutters. Martín shushes him and he adds: “Well, you’re getting fucked by him, but either way.”

“Who’s getting fucked?” a voice asks and Martín nearly jumps out of his skin when Andrés appears around the corner like some sort of ghost. Luca immediately abandons Martín to bowl over Aethra.

“Hello Andrés,” Martín says stiffly.

Andrés smiles, the same way he always has, one corner of his mouth slower than the other. Martín scolds himself for the way his heart still flutters at the smile being directed at him. “Martín, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, I haven’t,” Martín immediately argues, even though he sort of has.

Andrés eyes him in a way that makes Martín feel a lot like a deer in the headlights. “Well, either way I just wanted to make sure you’ll be okay co-leading the heist with me. Only a week left now.”

Martín rolls his eyes. “We’ve already been over this with Sergio. It’s fine.”

“Well, I just wanted to make sure. We’ll need to keep the team in check together, make sure no one gets out of hand. There won’t be an opportunity to play… favourites,” Andrés says, casual in a way that Martín sees right through.

At their feet, Aethra whimpers, pressing herself to Luca.

Martín scowls. “Jesus, is this about me and Helsinki? I’ve got it under control, it’s just stress-relief.”

Andrés nods. “As long as that’s all it is.”

“If it weren’t, it would still be none of your business,” Martín hisses, getting up into Andrés' space.

Andrés shoves him, pressing him against a wall, arm exerting just shy of too much pressure on Martín’s collarbones. “It becomes my business, if he becomes a liability or can’t function during the heist because he’s in love with you.”

“Why,” Martín spits, pushing Andrés away from him. “It didn’t seem to affect you, during your last heist, did it? Although I suppose you’d moved on by then? If you were even telling the truth in the first place.”

He tries to storm away, only to be jerked back as Andrés grabs his arm. “Is that what you think?” he asks, that smug fucking smile back on his face.

“I don’t care anymore, Andrés.”

The smile falters. “You’re lying.”

Martín shakes his head. “I’m not, I can’t do this anymore. You robbed me of the last five years – and all the ones before that, right from when we met. If I had one wish, it would be that we’d never met. Maybe I could have been someone then, made something of myself.”

“You don’t mean that,” Andrés says, as Luca separates himself from Aethra and launches himself into Martín’s arms. Aethra whines bitterly until Andrés picks her up so she’s level with Luca, Andrés’ face almost obscured by her fur. “You can’t regret it that much, Martín. Not all of it. We had good times too.”

Martín sniffs as Luca nuzzles his face. “We did, and they weren’t fucking worth the pain.”

He turns, letting his feet carry himself and Luca away, ignoring Andrés calling his name and Aethra letting out pained sounding yips.

* * *

Andrés isn’t entirely sure how everything went to shit so quickly. First the truck he was in, which Bogota and Nairobi were driving, stood still for ages. He and Aethra just had to crouch in the back, waiting for something – anything – to happen. His hand itched towards his gun more than once, but thankfully Aethra talked him out of jumping out, guns blazing.

Then they’re in the bank and of course Tokyo and Nairobi have managed to fuck up already. Andrés and Martín seem to be on the same page at least, ordering the gang onto the balconies around Gandia and the other bodyguards.

“I fucking told Sergio we should just shoot Gandia immediately!” Andrés hisses at Aethra.

“Shh, calm down,” she soothes. “You’re right of course, but you know Sergio likes to believe we’re all just Robin Hood heroes – and so do the others.”

Andrés scowls. “Martín agreed with me.”

Aethra gives him a pointed look – and he still doesn’t understand how she manages to do that with her beautiful little foxs face.

“Gandia, the game’s over!” Andrés yells, interrupting whatever Martín had been saying which earns him a sharp nip in the thigh from Aethra.

He should have seen it coming, that Gandia would fire. He does in a way, positioning Aethra behind him and preparing to duck. Except it’s not him that Gandia fires at, it’s Martín.

Martín disappears in a shower of glass and Aethra shrieks as if she herself was shot.

“Martín. Luca,” she whimpers as Andrés and the rest of the gang empty their clips into the bodyguards’ vests, knocking them to the ground.

“I know, mi amor,” Andrés tells her, tucking her under his arm as he dashes down the stairs. “But we need to be leaders first.”

They reach the ground floor and Andrés puts Aethra back down. “Tokyo, Nairobi, Helsinki, tie up the bodyguards and go help Bogota with the hostages. Denver, with me.”

Aethra sprints as far ahead of him as she can, bounding up the stairs to where Martín and Luca are.

Martín is on his back on the floor and Andrés clenches his jaw as he sees the amount of glass embedded in his friend’s face. Luca is on top of him and Aethra whimpers when she sees a shard sticking out of his shoulder.

“Go get a stretcher,” Andrés orders and doesn’t bother to turn, listening to Denver’s boots stomping away down the hallway.

“Palermo,” he says, the name still unfamiliar. “Can you open your eyes?”

Martín groans, not properly conscious. Denver reappears with a wheeled table, Stockholm behind him carrying a miniature first aid kit. Andrés accepts the bandages, carefully winding one around Martín’s head, trying not to fixate on how blood immediately starts soaking through.

“Denver, help me lift him.”

Denver nods and Stockholm puts a hand on his arm. “Careful not to touch his daemon,” she warns them with a shiver.

Denver grabs Martín’s legs, Andrés takes his shoulders and together they manage to get Martín onto the table, without touching or dislodging Luca. The minute Martín is safely placed on the table, Denver and Andrés start pushing it, trying to move him as quickly as they can.

They race past the hostages, Stockholm sprinting along behind them.

When they get Martín into the library, Stockholm drags a lamp over as Andrés unwinds Martín’s bandage.

Martín blinks, trying to open his eyes, but they keep sliding shut. “I can’t keep them open,” he confesses as Andrés tries to shine the light in them.

“Can you see anything?” he asks and Martín shakes his head.

“I can’t see shit.”

Stockholm steps forward. “He needs an ophthalmologist.”

“And how do you propose we get one in here?” Andrés growls.

“We could release some hostages?” Denver suggests.

Andrés rounds on him. “This early? We’ll never be able to get through the heist if we’re already releasing hostages.”

Stockholm, to Andrés surprise, inserts herself between them. “What about his daemon? He’ll need stitches once the glass is removed!”

“Luca?” Martín asks behind them and if he hasn’t even noticed that his daemon his hurt, then he must be in a world of pain.

“My shoulder,” Andrés hears Luca says, his usually snarky voice sounding tired.

“We need a proper doctor!” Denver insists.

Andrés shakes his head. “And I’m telling you, we won’t get one. I’ll sort this out myself. Stockholm get me the surgical kit and the daemon first aid kit.”

“What?” she asks, the shock clear on her face. “You can’t be serious.”

Behind them Martín groans and Andrés hurries back to his side. “Just do it, Stockholm.”

She hesitates for another moment but then nods and runs off.

Andrés grabs the magnifying monocle that was lying on the table and leans forward to look at Martín’s eyes. They’re a bloody mess and while Andrés would be the first to praise his own skills at, well, most things, even his confidence is shaky in the face of this task.

“You have to help them!” Aethra says, hopping up onto a chair so she has a better view.

Andrés buries a hand in her fur, letting her presence calm him. “I will, mi vida, I will.”

Stockholm reappears with the two kits, handing them to Andrés with a sceptical look on her face.

“Palermo, I’m going to take the glass out with tweezers, okay?” Andrés says, not really wanting or needing his permission. “Stockholm is going to give you some painkillers.” He gestures for her to do as he asked and to her credit, she does. She digs in the kit and injects Martín with the morphine Sergio had insisted would be needed – although Andrés doesn’t think his little brother expected it to happen quite so soon.

Andrés nears Martín’s face and he shakes his head. “No, do Luca first!”

“I can wait,” Luca says from his position on Martín’s chest and Andrés is inclined to agree with him.

“Listen to your daemon,” is what he says instead, taking a breath to make sure his hand is steady.

Pulling out the glass is an excruciatingly slow process, although each one that Andrés can drop into the dish Stockholm is holding feels like a victory. Despite the morphine, Martín still whimpers as Andrés works on his eyes and Andrés can’t imagine the pain his friend is in. Aethra is actually on the table now, as close to Martín as she dares, her snout pressed against Luca’s side.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Andrés removes the last piece of glass from Martín’s cheekbone.

“We’re done,” he says and Martín sighs.

“Now Luca,” he says insistently.

“Palermo,” Stockholm says hesitantly. “He’ll need stitches. We can’t do that without touching him. And none of our daemons have the dexterity or training to do it.”

Andrés scowls at her. “I already told you that I’d do it.”

“We need to give him a choice!” she argues.

Andrés shakes his head. “There is no other choice! He can’t do it himself if he can’t see, so who else is there.”

“Helsinki?” Denver asks and Aethra growls.

Martín reaches out, gently stroking Luca’s head. “Luca?” he asks quietly.

“Let Andrés do it,” Luca says and Aethra licks his face.

Andrés nods, grabbing the daemon kit. “Okay Luca, you can stay on top of Palermo since the glass is in your shoulder. I’m going to give you some painkillers too, alright?”

Luca nods his assent and Andrés carefully injects him with the painkiller, still able to avoid directly touching him.

“I need to remove the glass now,” he explains.

“Just do it,” Luca says, sounding more like his usual self and Martín huffs a laugh at his daemon’s bad manners.

Andrés picks up the tweezers and pulls out the glass as quickly as he can. Luca hisses and Martín inhales sharply, no doubt dealing with Luca’s claws in his chest.

The glass is out and Andrés drizzles antiseptic on it, which means all that is left to do is stitch Luca up.

“I need to touch you now, cariño,” he says softly, once he’s threaded the needle. He knows this is an awkward and frightening situation, but a part of him wonders if touching Luca will feel just as good now as it did years ago, when Martín and he were closer than they had any right to be.

He carefully stretches out a hand and pinches the edges of the wound together, ignoring the way both Luca and Martín gasp. He feels unbelievably warm, content in a way he hasn’t in years and he needs to actively pull himself together to concentrate on stitching Luca up.

He’s just tied and cut the thread when he sees Aethra shuffling along the table and pushing her head into Martín’s hand. Andrés’ whole body seizes up as Martín buries his hand in Aethra’s thick fur and he’d collapse right then and there if Stockholm and Denver weren’t staring, open mouthed.

“You’ve done that before, haven’t you?” Denver says, wincing as Stockholm smacks him.

Andrés raises an eyebrow. “I think you two should go and check on the hostages,” he suggests and Stockholm and Denver are out of the library seconds later.

Andrés sinks onto the chair next to Martín. “Well that was something,” he says as Aethra licks Martín’s hand and then retreats.

Martín doesn’t reply and when Andrés turns to look at him, he’s passed out. He resists the urge to do something stupid like run a hand through Martín’s hair when he realises that Luca is still awake and staring at him.

“I’m angry with you,” the daemon says, his ears twitching as Martín’s breath hitches and then evens out again.

Andrés nods. “I know you are. But why aren’t you angry with Aethra?” he questions.

Luca hisses and Aethra nudges his side. “Aethra didn’t want to leave.”

Andrés’ stomach clenches. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“What do you know about fair?” Luca asks and Andrés is at a loss for words. “But thank you. For helping Martín… and me,” the daemon allows.

Andrés nods and Luca turns away from him, stretching so his head is in the hollow of Martín’s throat. Andrés had always wondered how either of them could sleep like that – Aethra preferred to tuck herself against Andrés’ ribs. He’d asked once and Luca had just scoffed at him and Martín had said something about liking the weight.

Aethra gives Luca’s wounded shoulder a comforting lick, before hopping off the table and onto Andrés’ lap.

“Was Luca right?” Andrés asks her, not needing to specify about what.

Aethra blinks up at him. “You already know the answer to that.”

Andrés sighs and strokes her immaculate fur. “I know.”

The two of them sit there and watch over Martín and Luca until Tokyo and that dratted honey badger daemon, Jon, come storming in.

“We have a problem. The governor won’t go into the vault.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one was a bit shorter, i was busy today so i didn't have as much time to write.  
> Thank you all so much for your amazing responses to this fic (both here and on tumblr), i really wasn't expecting it!!  
> If anyone is interested, i put together a list of everyone's daemon's with names and pictures [here](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com/post/620557086371250176/idk-if-anyone-is-interested-but-here-is-everyones)  
> also if anyone is an expert on daemon's i've defo offended them with the inaccuracies in this chapter but ah well, it's AU so... the daemons play by my rules lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooof, this is... something. idk if this is good but I'm posting it anyway lol  
> Anyway, we're upping the TWs for suicidal thoughts (not acted upon, this is still angst with a happy ending), canon typical derogatory and homophobic language, and canon typical violence.

He’s going to kill Denver or have Aethra bite that stupid fucking Parrot of his. First he nearly kills the governor and then he runs outside instead of just sticking to the plan and forcing Gandia to go out? His stupidity is incomprehensible to Andrés.

When Denver comes back inside, Andrés drags him into the nearest empty room.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have been shot!”

Denver sets his jaw obstinately. “Gandia wasn’t going to do it, we were running out of time.”

“So you shoot Gandia in the leg and then see if they’ll still refuse!”

Denver gapes. “I can’t shoot unarmed hostages.”

Andrés raises an eyebrow at him. “I thought that was your speciality.”

Portia screeches and at Andrés’ feet, Aethra growls until the parrot daemon quiets.

“That’s two strikes, Denver, don’t add a third.”

“What was the first?” Denver asks and Andrés thinks he should be sainted for not strangling him.

“Get changed back into your jumpsuit,” he says instead. “Come on Aethra, let’s go oversee the hostages.”

The hostages are boring. They whimper and quiver and Andrés wants to tell them all to grow some balls. One woman has a prissy little robin daemon which literally shakes with fear every time Aethra walks past – as if his beautiful girl is some sort of animal that will snap at any moment.

Now Gandia is different. Andrés hates him too, but at least he’s interesting. He scowls at the members of the gang, his snake daemon wound around one of his arms. He isn’t cowed at all and while Andrés doesn’t like what he’s saying, he does find it vaguely amusing that Gandia thinks insulting Nairobi is the way to go.

He turns when Aethra does, her attention focussed on Martín and Luca who are slowly walking down the stairs with Denver, Portia circling their heads. Aethra makes to move to Luca’s side, but Andrés stops her with a minute shake of his head.

He’s impressed when Martín comes to Nairobi’s aid – she hasn’t made a secret of the fact that she doesn’t like him – and seeing Martín taunting Gandia almost makes him smile.

Except then Gandia fixates on Martín, calling him a faggot, a sudaca, calling Luca a poor excuse for a daemon. Andrés can’t blame Martín for beating Gandia’s face in, kind of wants to do it himself. Aethra clearly agrees and Andrés picks her up to stop her from storming over to Luca who is hissing louder than the snake daemon.

“Are you going to let that asshole speak to them like that?” she demands.

He runs a hand over her ears. “Patience, mi amor, Martín can handle himself.”

Martín’s eyesight must be severely impaired because he’s only landing about one in four hits, which is why Andrés doesn’t understand why Nairobi and Denver stop him. Prospero, Nairobi’s raccoon dog daemon, grabs Luca by the scruff of his neck and drags him away from Gandia as he hisses and spits.

Aethra growls and Andrés follows them as they manhandle Martín into the library. He throws himself onto a couch, Luca in his arms, head under Martín’s chin as if to protect his throat from attacks.

Helsinki has followed them in and Dušan whimpers, walking over to nose at Luca as Martín gets to his feet and he and Nairobi yell at each other, tongues barbed, words hurtful.

“I don’t love anyone,” Martín proclaims, his glance down at Luca proving otherwise, but Dušan finally leaves Luca alone, scampering back to Helsinki who places a massive hand on his head.

Andrés doesn’t care about Helsinki’s pain, but Martín, Martín is barely holding it together and Andrés knows Helsinki might be the only person in the whole building who can see that too.

Prospero and Luca are circling each other on the ground and Andrés keeps a tight grip on Aethra, because this isn’t their fight to get involved in.

You don’t love anyone? Of course you don’t, honey. You don’t have the balls to. You need courage to love. I have courage. Look. Helsi, I love you. I love you so much that I would have a family with you,” Nairobi tells Helsinki. “See? This is bravery. I feel it, and I say it. And you don’t know how to do that.”

Luca hisses, swiping a paw at Prospero who actually takes a step back, making the side of Martín’s mouth twitch, but Nairobi is still talking, her words well aimed bullets.

“How long was it?” she asks. “You were in love with Berlin for ten years, and you never dared to tell him?”

Martín’s face freezes and Andrés finally loses his grip on Aethra. She jumps out of his arms and onto the floor, putting herself between Luca and Prospero, snarling wildly.

Nairobi spins to look at Andrés as if she’d forgotten he was there. Behind her, Martín is staring at the ground, a haunted look on his face.

“You’re heading into dangerous territory, Nairobi,” Andrés says coolly. “Palermo and I’s relationship is none of your business.”

“What relationship?” Nairobi scoffs. “You think we haven’t all noticed how your daemons are obsessed with each other, but you can’t stand to be in a room with one another? We may not have known you before the heist, but Bogota did and he had some very interesting things to say.”

“Like what?” Martín asks, his voice sounding just a shade too invested to be casual.

“Nairobi,” Andrés warns, but she ignores him.

“Like the fact that you followed Berlin around like a puppy for years, worshipped the ground he stood on – and that he couldn’t have cared less about you,” Nairobi says and Andrés wishes she sounded triumphant or vindictive. Instead she sounds pitying, as if she genuinely feels sad for Martín. “It’s not your fault, we all know what Berlin is like – he’s not capable of love, not really. So at the end of the day, you hide behind these speeches about not loving anyone, about ‘boom, boom, ciao’ because you’re empty and you know. You know you’re alone forever, friend.” With that, Nairobi turns on her heel and leaves, Prospero following her, giving Aethra a wide berth as he does so.

Martín doesn’t say anything, just stands there, spine rigid, jaw clenched. Aethra licks Luca, but he nudges her off, climbing up Martín’s jumpsuit until he’s on his chest. Martín wraps his arms around him, shrugging off Helsinki when he puts a hand on his shoulder.

He walks out of the library, ignoring how Aethra whines when they wordlessly passes her and Andrés.

Helsinki and Denver, who Andrés had sort of forgotten was there, both look at him as if they’re waiting for him to say something.

“Get back to work,” is what he eventually says. “This is a heist, not a fucking soap opera.”

Aethra rounds on him the minute the two men and their daemons have left the room.

“You should have done something!” she says.

Andrés glares at her. “Like what? I tried to stop her, but Martín is the one who started all this.”

“Oh and you don’t think you’re even a little bit to blame?” Aethra asks, her voice accusatory.

“I’m not to blame for everything that’s wrong with Martín Berrote!” he replies angrily.

“You left him. You left him and you knew what it would do to him.”

“And you know that I had to.”

She growls. “Not like that, never like that. Martín and Luca were our friends. What you did… you didn’t just leave him, you destroyed him first.”

Andrés runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Because he wouldn’t have accepted it otherwise. You know how much he loved me, you knew before anyone else. Tell me honestly that if I’d only told him I was going to do the mint heist with Sergio he’d have just accepted that and let me go. He was holding on too tightly.”

“And you cut his fingers off so he’d never be able to hold anything again,” Aethra snaps and Andrés has never seen her so angry.

“I know you miss Luca,” he tries, but she cuts him off.

“Of course I miss Luca. But I miss Martín as well. And I know you do too. What you two had… it was different. No one else has ever touched me, not Tatiana or any of the other women, not even Sergio. But he has. And look at earlier, you touched Luca, he trusted you to heal him. Whatever the reasons you had for leaving… they aren’t valid anymore.”

Andrés collapses onto the same couch Martín had been on moments before. Aethra takes pity on him and climbs up, settling herself in his lap.

“I know you were scared. I was too,” she admits. “But we aren’t dying anymore. So why are we still punishing them for not wanting to let go of us?”

Andrés strokes her, remembering how there was a time when his hands would shake while doing this. A time before the medicinal trials, when he came face to face with his own mortality and couldn’t bear to drag Martín into that quagmire of fear too.

“I’m not a good person,” Andrés says. “I love myself enough to admit that. I thought I could die with dignity and I said it was to spare everyone else, but it was really to spare myself facing my past and my future humiliation. So now that I no longer have that option… how could I possibly try to live as I did before? How can I return to him now after all I’ve done?”

“He still loves you,” Aethra insists. “He always will, the same way he loves Luca, the same way you and I love each other. You deserve to have that love, but so does he.”

Andrés sighs. “I always thought daemons weren’t supposed to be smarter than their humans.”

“I suppose a human came up with that theory,” Aethra sniffs and Andrés kisses the top of her head.

“You’re right about Martín, about us. But I’m not sure the middle of the heist is the right time for love confessions.”

“Tell that to Nairobi,” Aethra says and Andrés sniggers.

“I love when you’re mean, querida.”

“That’s because you’re an asshole,” she says tartly. “Now let’s focus on this heist.”

* * *

This is the final straw. Martín is trying to save Nairobi’s life, but those fucking idiots are trying to paint him as the bad guy. Everyone has guns out and they’re pointing them at each other and Nairobi is bleeding everywhere and crying and Martín has had enough. Andrés isn’t around the operating table, he’d made his opinion clear and then gone to talk to Sergio.

Sergio, who had dragged Martín away from his pitiful, but tolerable life and into this stupid fucking heist to save one of his precious gang members and promised him the heist of which he used to dream and what has Martín got in return? Nothing but pain and humiliation and having it rubbed in his face just how much being around Andrés still hurts.

So he decides to say fuck them. He picks Luca up, ignoring how much they're both shaking and walks to the office where he has been storing the few things he managed to bring into the bank with him.

“What are we going to do?” Luca asks from a desk as Martín paces the room.

“I don’t know. But we aren’t staying here. I can’t, Luca, I can’t stay here another week! This was supposed to be my plan! Mine. If I couldn’t have… him, I was at least supposed to have my plan!”

He collapses onto the floor, pressing his hands to his face. Luca joins him as quickly as he can, his body solid and warm as he presses against Martín.

“How are we going to get out?” the daemon asks. “Sergio won’t extract us.”

“We could just walk out through the front door,” he suggests.

Luca whines. “Are you crazy? We’d never make it down the steps.”

“The state secrets would be a good guarantee, but Andrés has them under lock and key, there’s no way we’ll be allowed to walk out with them,” Martín contemplates. Luca is still staring at him as if he’s gone mad. “Then again, it only needs to look like we’ve got state secrets. That would be enough to get us at least out of the vicinity of the bank.”

He jumps to his feet, crossing the room to rummage in his bag. Once he’s located his black suit, he starts to strip, changing his clothes as quickly as possible.

“You can’t be serious,” Luca tells him, watching Martín dress.

“And why not?” he asks, rounding on his Daemon.

Luca stands on just his hind on the edge of the desk legs so he can look Martín in the eye. “Tell me you can guarantee they won’t just shoot you.”

Martín hesitates. “I can’t,” he whispers, tears rolling down his face and Luca lets out a yowl as if he’s in physical pain.

“Please, Martín,” Luca begs. “You can’t do this, it’s too dangerous.”

Martín wipes his face with his sleeve, fresh tears gathering in his eyes even as he wipes the old ones away. “Isn’t it worth the risk? We might be okay.”

“And if we aren’t?” Luca asks, his whole body quivering.

“I don’t know,” Martín sobs, sliding onto the floor in front of the desk. “I don’t know. I don’t want you to die, but Luca, I don’t know if I can live like this anymore. I don't have my plan, I don't have Andrés - I can't even fucking see properly. What have I got left?”

“Me,” Luca whimpers, jumping onto the ground and Martín picks him up, letting him press whiskery kisses to his tearstained face. “You have me, Martín. Aren’t I enough?”

“You are, cariño, you are and you know how much I love you,” Martín insists. “But it hurts so much. I just want it to stop! I need it to stop, can’t you understand that?”

It feels eerily familiar to what he said when Luca talked him into putting down the gun years ago, insisting that they still had something to live for. That maybe they could still do the heist without Andrés, that maybe Andrés would come back soon. Except this time he can’t do that, because they both know neither of those things are options anymore.

“Please Martín, please don’t do it,” Luca begs as Martín continues to sob.

“Don’t do what?” a voice from the door asks and suddenly Andrés and Aethra are striding into the office. Martín doesn’t answer as Luca continues to try and comfort him and suddenly Andrés is crouching beside him, Aethra nudging Luca’s tail.

“Martín what’s going on?” Andrés asks.

Luca whimpers and Martín shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just go, Andrés, you’re good at that, aren’t you?”

“Martín?” Aethra asks softly. “Luca? What’s happening.”

Andrés shakes his shoulder. “Martín what the fuck is happening?”

“You can’t let him,” Luca says and Martín can’t stop fucking crying because he hurts so much, but he’s putting Luca through so much pain as well. “Andrés please don’t let him!”

Andrés, for maybe the first time since Martín has known him, looks genuinely frightened. “Luca, what can’t I let him do?”

“Don’t Luca,” Martín begs, but his daemon doesn’t listen to him.

He licks Martín’s cheek before he turns his head to look at Andrés. “He wants to leave, he wants to walk out the front door and just let them shoot him.”

Aethra howls and Martín presses his face to Luca’s fur, letting his daemon nuzzle the top of his head.

“Martín,” Aethra whines and then she’s climbing into his lap, pressing her face against his hands, where they’re clutching at Luca.

Andrés audibly gasps, but allows the contact as Aethra works her head under one of Martín’s hands so she’s sandwiched between Luca and Martín. Martín’s fingers automatically curl into her fur and Andrés sways a little, blinking hard as he tries to seat himself properly on the ground.

“You can’t leave,” he tells Martín, his voice low and serious. “Luca is right, they’ll kill you immediately. You can’t do that to yourself or to him.”

Martín shakes, unable to form words and then Andrés’ arms are around him. It’s an awkward, with both Luca and Aethra pressed between them and Martín can’t return it without letting go of his daemon.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice thick. “Why are you acting like you care.”

Andrés shuffles closer, stroking the back of Martín’s head with one of his hands. “I’m not acting, I do care. About you. About Luca. Much too much to let you go through with this.”

“You don’t,” Martín insists, trying to pull away, but the desk is still behind him and he has nowhere to go. “You don’t care, you just need me to finish the heist.”

“He does care,” Aethra whimpers.

“Then why did you leave?” Martín demands as Luca frantically tries to calm him. “You left, don’t tell me it’s because you cared!” He finally succeeds in shoving Andrés away, but can’t bring himself to do the same to Aethra.

“Because I thought it was the right thing to do,” Andrés says as if that makes any sense at all.

“We thought he was dying,” Aethra adds. “He was dying.”

Luca turns his head. “Was?”

Andrés sighs. “My mother’s disease. I was diagnosed with it and they said that I didn’t have much time. I didn’t want you to watch me die, which is what would have happened if you’d come to the mint and then on the run with us, or if we’d stayed with you.”

“That’s terribly sad,” Luca snarls, feeling Martín’s anger as his own. “But you still seem to be alive.”

“Experimental treatments,” Aethra says in a small voice. “But we were on the run, we couldn’t come back.”

“And we – I, didn’t think we should. I thought maybe you’d moved on, it’s what would have been best for you,” Andrés finishes.

Martín sniffs. “I’m afraid I’ve never been good at doing what’s best for me.”

Andrés makes a sound that’s almost a laugh. “No, cariño, you never were.”

Martín freezes at the casual way Andrés slipped the endearment into the sentence. “Andrés, what are you doing?” he asks warily.

Aethra pushes harder into Martín’s hand, making Andrés draw a sharp breath. “Tell him, Andrés!”

“Tell me what? What is she talking about?”

“She’s talking about the fact that I love you,” Andrés says. He says it calmly, simply, as if stating a fact. The sky is blue, Aethra is my daemon, I love you.

Martín shakes his head. “No you don’t. You can’t.”

“But I can. In fact, I believe I’ve already told you that once before. The only mistake I made that night was leaving you, everything else… it was the most honest I’ve been in my entire life,” Andrés says, his face earnest, throat bobbing as he swallows as if he’s nervous.

“But you said it was impossible,” Martín whispers.

Andrés shakes his head. “For me, Martín. It was impossible for me to have what I wanted. If I had given in then and I nearly did – when you kissed me, you were so brave and it was so unexpected and I nearly gave in and if I had I would never have left. I would never have left and Sergio would never have forgiven me and I’d never have gotten my treatment and you… you’d have sat beside me as I withered away. You deserve a better story than what you got, but that… that wouldn’t have been it.”

Martín nods slowly and Andrés reaches out, cupping his face. “And now?” Martín asks. “Which story are we in now?”

“The one where I tell you I want to start over and beg for forgiveness. I shouldn’t have left, but I don’t regret doing it, I regret how it hurt you. How it’s brought you to this, in a heist that’s a poor imitation of our brilliant plan, believing that you and Luca would be better off dead.” Andrés chokes on the last word, his thumbs wiping away Martín’s tears which are still falling despite his best efforts.

“Not Luca,” Martín corrects. “Just me.”

“We’re the same,” Luca tells him. “Two halves of a whole.” He slides out of Martín’s grasp, crawling across Aethra and into Andrés’ lap. “I need you. And you and Andrés need each other. And I need Aethra.”

“I fear he’s right,” Andrés says, lowering his hands hesitantly, pulling them away from Martín’s face and carefully stroking Luca. Aethra pushes into Martín’s hands and he feels warmth as Andrés touches Luca, his soul, his other half. “I think we’re inextricably intertwined,” he says and Martín can see that he’s just as affected by Aethra being touched.

“Andrés,” Martín whispers, his whole body shaking. “If you're telling the truth, promise that you won’t leave again. After the heist, we leave together? Just you and me, Luca and Aethra.”

Andrés nods solemnly. “Just us, forever. I love you, I’m not letting you go again.”

They move simultaneously, letting go of Aethra and Luca who jump out of the way so as not to get crushed. Andrés’ hands are back on Martín’s face, his lips insistent as they kiss, urgently, passionately, as if it’s both the first time and the last time.

“You love me?” Martín breathes against Andrés.

“I love you,” he confirms, kissing Martín again.

It’s hungry, no room for tenderness, too desperate from years of pain for patience. Andrés presses Martín against the desk with such fervour that he hits his head on the edge.

“Ow,” Martín says and Andrés only looks moderately remorseful.

“Okay, this isn’t working. Stand up,” he orders, pulling Martín to his feet. Then he’s shoving some poor employee’s belongings off the desk and backing Martín up until his legs are pressed against it.

“Andrés what are you doing?” Martín asks, but Andrés just kisses him quiet, arms wrapping around his waist.

When Andrés’ hands suddenly slide lower, gripping Martín’s thighs and lifting him onto the desk, Martín swears which makes Andrés laugh.

“I’m not having sex with you on a desk in the middle of a heist,” Martín gripes, but he wraps his legs around Andrés’ waist anyway, pulling him closer.

“Are you sure about that?” Andrés gasps as he grinds their hips together.

Martín kisses Andrés’ neck, teeth nipping at the skin. “No, so don’t try and persuade me. Because I will cave. Easily.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to tell me that,” Andrés teases and Martín pinches his side in retaliation.

Martín leans up to kiss Andrés again who meets him halfway, hands tugging on his hair in a way that is possessive and almost too painful.

They break apart when Luca clears his throat loudly, his head appearing next to Martín’s right knee.

“What?” Martín asks, but he can’t bring himself to be annoyed. “I’m sorry, come here querido.” He hauls Luca up into his arms.

“Are you going to be okay, now?” his daemon asks quietly. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Martín nods. “I’m so sorry, I never meant to scare you.”

Luca nuzzles at his face. “I just want you to be happy, you’ve been unhappy for so long.”

“I’ll look after him,” Andrés says solemnly. He carefully strokes Luca’s head, making Martín shiver. “I promise, I won’t let anyone – even Martín himself – hurt either of you, okay, cariño?”

Luca purrs, pushing against Andrés’ hand. “Alright,” he says eventually. “But don’t think you can just act normal because you kissed. This isn’t a fairytale.”

Martín laughs, wanting to say something about his daemon being to smart for his own good, when Aethra, who’s over by the door – presumably standing guard – calls Andrés’ name.

He hurries over to her and they both step into the hallway.

Luca and Martín exchange a glance, but then Andrés is back.

“Denver was looking for us,” he says. “Apparently while they were doing surgery on Nairobi, Gandia escaped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon who? i don't know her


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're throwing out the canon timeline for this hot-garbage chapter.  
> TWs: homophobic language, canon-typical violence

Andrés watches as Martín catches Luca just as he goes sailing through the air towards Kate. Rio’s quokka daemon squeals, diving behind Tokyo’s legs.

“Luca,” Martín hisses. “No! I know they’re idiots but you can’t attack him!”

Beside him, Andrés crosses his arms. “You know, I’m inclined to agree with Luca, Palermo. Please explain again how you were so busy with Nairobi’s surgery that you didn’t notice our most dangerous hostage escaping.”

“It’s not Rio's fault,” Tokyo says. “Gandia’s daemon must have helped him.”

“It’s not like we could have tied up everyone’s daemons!” Denver adds.

As loathe as Andrés is to admit it, Denver’s right. That’s a line even he wouldn’t cross.

“Okay, here’s what we do,” Tokyo begins and Andrés holds up a hand to silence her.

“I’m sorry, are Palermo and I dead?” Andrés asks and she glares. “No, I didn’t think so. While we’re both here, we’re in charge – am I understood?”

Tokyo clenches her teeth, stepping towards him. “And where were you, huh? When we were working to save Nairobi’s life, where were you and Palermo?”

“None of your fucking business,” Martín spits, Luca still hissing in his arms.

“It doesn’t matter!” Stockholm says, stepping in when Tokyo looks like she’s gearing up for a fight. “We need to find Gandia, so Berlin what do we do?”

“We split up,” Andrés says decisively. “Tokyo, go with Helsinki, check the upper floors. Denver and Stockholm, go to the governor’s office we may have missed weapons there. Rio and I will check the offices here. Palermo go and let Bogota know, makes sure Gandia isn’t going to try and disrupt the melting.”

Martín sets his jaw, looking like he wants to argue and Andrés pulls him to one side. “Why do I have to go to the forge?”

“Because,” Andrés says quietly. “Less than an hour ago you were willing to let yourself get shot. I’m not letting you go anywhere near Gandia. Plus, your eyesight is still off, right? Can you blame me for not wanting you near an ex-military psychopath?”

Martín doesn’t look convinced, but thankfully his daemon is more sensible than him. “We’ll let Bogota know and then go and check on Nairobi and the hostages,” Luca compromises.

Andrés nods tightly, clapping a hand on Martín’s shoulder. Even that little bit of contact makes Martín’s eyes widen and Andrés almost can’t bring himself to let go.

“We meet back in the lobby in twenty minutes, alright?” he asks and everyone nods.

They start moving in different directions and Andrés does his best not to stare after Martín. Aethra has no such qualms, watching Martín’s retreating back until Andrés nudges her in the direction Rio and Kate are heading.

“What do you think Gandia is doing?” Rio asks timidly after the third office they’ve checked is empty.

Andrés shrugs. “Probably looking to get hold of a weapon and then kill us all.”

“Oh,” Rio says, hugging his gun to his chest. On the floor in front of them, Kate squeaks and Andrés rolls his eyes.

It’s not that he isn’t sympathetic to Rio’s situation but they’re in the middle of a heist. Now isn’t the time to have a breakdown.

The lower floors remain frustratingly empty and Andrés is feeling more and more tense. They should have just shot Gandia the minute he refused to leave the bank.

“What are we going to do when we find him?” Rio asks as they near the lobby and the remaining hostages.

Andrés’ fingers flex on the barrel of his rifle. “Well he’s proven that he can’t be chained up, so what would you suggest, Rio?”

Rio flinches. “You want to kill him?”

“It’s what I told the Professor we should do from the beginning,” Andrés says with a shrug. “Unless you have a better idea?”

“No,” Rio says quietly.

“Good, how long until the others meet us?”

Rio glances at his watch. “Three minutes.”

They enter the lobby, where Matias is standing guard over the hostages, with Nairobi in the dead centre of the room in her hospital bed.

Andrés frowns, expecting Martín to be there already.

“They’re not here yet?” Aethra asks at his feet and Andrés shakes his head.

They both turn when they hear footsteps, but it’s just Tokyo and Helsinki. Andrés looks at the clock high on the wall above the doors. One minute left until the rendezvous.

Rio thankfully looks as twitchy as Andrés feels, looking between his watch and the entrances every few seconds.

Two minutes after the allotted time, Denver and Stockholm come tearing into the room.

“Sorry, lost track of the time,” Denver says and Stockholm scowls, going over to stand with Rio. Felix nudges Kate, the two of them huddling together as if for warmth.

“Where’s Palermo?” Stockholm asks.

“He wasn’t here yet when we arrived,” Rio says.

Tokyo shrugs. “Maybe he went here first and then to the forge?”

“Why would he do that?” Andrés snaps. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Palermo hasn’t been here,” Matias says from across the room.

Denver looks unsure. “Maybe he stayed to help Bogota?”

Aethra growls and Dušan whines.

“Give it another few minutes?” Stockholm asks nervously.

Andrés looks at Aethra. She flattens her ears, but he can’t send everyone searching for Martín – they need to focus on Gandia and the hostages.

“I’ll go downstairs and check with Bogota. Stockholm and Rio, stay with the hostages and the rest of you go and patrol the corridors. We can’t let Gandia get the drop on us,” Andrés orders.

He turns to leave, but stops when Helsinki steps in front of him. “Berlin, wait. I’ll come with you.”

Andrés wants to say no, but if something really has happened to Martín… He gives a terse nod. “Okay. Denver and Tokyo stick together.”

He lets Helsinki and Dušan follow him and Aethra out and they try to retrace Martín’s steps. There’s no sign of him in the corridors and Andrés’ stomach twists as they near the lift.

The metal doors are opening and shutting, prevented from closing by something wedged in between them. Andrés rushes forward and sees some sort of tacky statuette - no doubt from someone's office - lying in between them, stone base wedged in the still moving doors.

“Martín,” Aethra says as she and Dušan rush forward into the lift.

Andrés nudges Aethra out of the way and picks up the statuette. There’s blood and hair stuck to the surface and Andrés’ stomach turns. He wordlessly shows it to Helsinki who grimaces.

“Gandia?” Helsinki asks and Andrés nods grimly. “But where could he have taken him? We didn’t see anything on our way here.

Andrés tugs on his hair in frustration, turning to look down the other hallways. Aethra skitters off to his left and Andrés feels that familiar tug in his chest as she gets too far.

“Aethra,” he calls.

“Andrés. Andrés there’s blood.”

Andrés and Helsinki exchange a look and storm down the hallway towards Aethra. Sure enough there’s a trail of blood leading away from them.

Andrés starts running, Aethra ahead of him and he can hear Helsinki and Dušan behind him. Aethra rounds the corner to their right and Andrés’ heart stops when he hears her squeal. He puts on an extra burst of speed, hindered by his clunky boots and when he reaches his daemon he wishes they’d never come to the bank, never done the mint heist, never left Martín in the first place.

Aethra howls and Andrés wants to howl with her. Helsinki and Dušan skid to a stop behind them and Helsinki swears low in Serbian.

Martín’s head is sticking out through the door in front of them, like a mounted deer, fresh scratches joining those already on his face, the back of his head coated in blood.

“Martín,” Andrés whispers, forgetting the codenames.

Martín jerks his head, but can’t raise it properly to look at them. “Andrés?” he groans.

Aethra runs forwards, pressing herself against the door so she’s directly in his eye-line. “Martín,” she whimpers.

“Aethra,” he says and Andrés is shocked to see tears rolling down Martín’s face. “Aethra he has Luca. He grabbed him and tied him up.”

Andrés feels the bile rise in his throat at the thought of Gandia putting his hands all over Luca, of how scared Martín must have been. He reaches out, hand lightly skimming Martín’s face. Suddenly there’s a voice from inside the room.

“Are you here to collect your faggot?” Gandia yells and Andrés’ blood boils.

“Let him go now, Gandia or I swear to god you’ll regret it for the rest of your considerably shortened life,” Andrés calls through the door.

There’s a gunshot and Martín screams. Andrés flinches and Aethra whimpers.

“Where?” Andrés asks, wiping the tears from Martín’s face with his sleeve.

“Leg,” Martín gasps.

“The next one is going in his spine,” Gandia threatens.

Andrés turns to Helsinki. “Go and get the others,” he mouths. “Now.”

Helsinki runs off and Andrés prays that Gandia didn’t hear them.

He keeps stroking Martín’s face, Aethra nuzzling his chin too. “What do you want Gandia?” Andrés demands.

Gandia laughs. “What do I want? I want you out of this bank, I want you all in handcuffs or preferably dead. But for now, I’ll settle for being able to walk out of here alive.”

Andrés scoffs. “After what you did to Palermo? I don’t think so!”

There’s another gunshot and Martín cries out again, his scream echoing through the hallway.

“I’ll keep going,” Gandia threatens. “This faggot has more than enough limbs.”

Thankfully the rest of the gang appear just then. Helsinki leading Denver, Rio, and Tokyo.

Andrés holds a finger to his lips, motioning for them to be quiet.

“We need to see where Gandia is in the room,” Andrés whispers. “Rio can you send Kate into the vents?”

Rio goes pale but nods.

“Get on my shoulders,” Helsinki says and as quietly as they can, they go about boosting up Rio so he can lift Kate into the vents.

“Quiet, querida,” Rio tells her as she climbs in. “Just go and see where he is and come right back.”

Kate really is quiet, but Andrés doesn’t want to risk anything, so he decides to distract Gandia.

“Here’s the thing, Gandia,” he says loudly. “We have a reputation to uphold. We can’t exactly let you stroll out of the bank, can we?”

“I don’t see why not,” Gandia says casually. “It’s an easy decision really. Me or your little friend here.”

Andrés glances up at the vent, but there’s still no sign of Kate. “How can we possibly trust you? You’ve just shot Palermo twice.”

“I could say the same for you. You’re criminals, dirty thieves, I can’t trust anything you say. So how about you get your Argentinian filth back and I hold onto his daemon? Then, once I’m at the doors, I’ll put the little weasel down and leave. Situation resolved.”

Martín whimpers. “Don’t you dare touch Luca again, you motherfucker!”

Andrés crouches down by Martín’s head, stroking his face in as comforting a way as he can. “That seems excessive even for you Gandia,” Andrés says, his teeth clenched.

Behind him, he hears scuffling and sees Helsinki putting Rio, with Kate in his arms, back on the ground.

Andrés gestures for them to come over. “Was he moving?” he asks and Kate shakes her head.

“He’s standing right behind the door,” Rio whispers, his mouth barely moving.

“Show me where his head is,” Andrés mouths and Rio holds Kate up until she touches a panel on the wooden door about two feet above Martín’s head.

“Luca?” Andrés questions.

Kate’s perpetually smiling face crumples. “In the far corner, tied up.”

“Well, what can I say? Some assholes came into my bank and tried to steal ninety tonnes of gold,” Gandia growls.

Andrés straightens up and pulls his pistol from its holster. He gestures for Denver, Helsinki and Tokyo to flank him so they are basically aiming at the entire upper half of the door above Martín’s head.

“Sounds like a bad few days for you,” Andrés says, holding up three fingers and slowly folding them in, one after the other.

Gandia makes a noise that’s almost a growl. “You could say so, but-” he begins and the rest is lost in the sound of gun fire.

The wooden door splinters under the onslaught of bullets and Andrés empties his pistol.

When he’s out of bullets, the others stop too and there’s a moment of deafening silence.

Then there’s a voice calling Martín’s name from inside the room.

“Luca?” Martín asks and it’s almost a sob.

“Martín!” Luca yells.

“Luca can you see Gandia?” Andrés asks.

There’s a pause. “Yes, he’s… he’s dead. His daemon is gone.”

Andrés turns as the others breathe sighs of relief. “Denver, go get me an axe or something so we can get Palermo out of there.”

“I think there was a fire axe down the hall,” Rio says and the two of them take off, practically running.

“Just hold on,” Andrés tells Martín. “We’ll get you out of there and back with Luca in a minute, mi amor.”

Martín sniffs, eyes clouded with tears and hazy from what Andrés assumes is pain and blood loss.

Behind Andrés, Tokyo clears her throat, but mercifully doesn’t say anything. Denver and Rio return with a wicked looking axe and Andrés steps away from Martín.

“Tokyo, go and contact the Professor please. Update him on the situation and ask him what the next steps are – and take Rio with you,” Andrés orders. “Denver, Helsinki, can you help me break through the door?”

Tokyo for once follows the orders unquestioningly and she and Rio quickly disappear. Denver hefts the axe in one hand and starts to attack the wood next to Martín, who squeezes his eyes shut to avoid the debris.

When Denver has created a sizeable hole in the bullet-weakened wood, Andrés pushes him aside and starts ripping at it with his bare hands until he can just about squeeze through into the other room. Aethra hops through after him. Andrés kicks Gandia's body out of the way, grinning when he hears the satisfying sound of bones crunching. Ones he's as far from the door as possible without touching him, Andrés turns his attention to Martín.

Martín is kneeling on the ground, head pushed through the door, hands tied behind his back, two sluggishly bleeding bullet wounds in his left calf. Andrés pulls a pen knife from his pocket and cuts the ties binding Martín’s hands. Then he grabs Martín’s shoulders, guiding his head back through the wood, wincing when it creates more scratches on Martín’s damaged face.

Martín whimpers and Andrés pulls him close, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Luca?” Martín asks and Andrés nods, physically dragging him away from the door and propping him up against the wall.

“Helsinki, Denver you can open the door now. Helsinki, if you could try and stop some of the bleeding?” Andrés asks, already moving across the room to where Aethra is sitting next to a miserable looking Luca. His whole body is wrapped up in rope which is tied painfully tight.

“I need to cut you lose, okay?” Andrés tells him, showing him the knife.

Luca whines, but nods. “It’s alright, go ahead.”

Andrés is careful not to touch Luca too much as he cuts his bonds. The minute he’s lose, Luca is darting across the room and into Martín’s arms. Aethra yips and Andrés gathers her up, carrying her over to Martín where Helsinki is working on his leg.

“His head looks okay, i don't think he has a concussion. But his leg... One bullet went through and the other one needs to come out,” Helsinki says. “We should be able to do it easily enough with one of the surgical kits.”

“Then let’s do it,” Andrés says.

Helsinki slides his arms under Martín’s body and picks him up in a deadlift that Andrés definitely doesn’t think is impressive. He and Denver lead the way back to the library where they find Nairobi in her hospital bed and Tokyo keeping watch.

Nairobi is still passed out when Helsinki lays Martín out on the table, but Tokyo immediately darts over, the surgical kit in her hand.

“Thought you might need it,” she says at Andrés’ raised eyebrow.

He settles himself in a chair beside Martín content to let Helsinki handle the bullet removal.

After a few minutes, the tension in Martín’s body eases, no doubt thanks to the painkillers Helsinki administered.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his eyes half lidded, one hand still buried in Luca’s fur, the other curled around Andrés’ fingers.

Andrés frowns. “For what, cariño?”

Tears fill Martín’s eyes. “I let him get the drop on me, nearly put you all in danger. It was my eyesight, you were right, I couldn’t see and he... he grabbed Luca and I was powerless.”

Andrés hushes him, free hand stroking Martín’s hair as Aethra stretches up to push her snout against the side of his face. “It’s not your fault, not at all. Gandia crossed boundaries in a way most sane people wouldn’t even consider doing. The consequences of his twisted actions are not your fault.”

Martín nods, but he still looks heartbroken and if they weren’t in the same room as half the gang, with Helsinki basically operating on Martín, Andrés would kiss him. But he can’t, won’t.

Instead he cautiously reaches out towards Luca, clearly telegraphing his movements.

Luca pushes up into his hand, when Andrés hesitates and Martín gasps, but then relaxes, going completely boneless as Andrés continues to stroke Luca.

He hears a choking sound and Denver leaves the library. Andrés ignores him, instead looking to Tokyo. “What did the Professor say?”

She purses her lips. “He said that he wants to extract us now that Rio is back. Apparently Lisbon was nearly caught and it's too much of a risk to stay.”

“What about the gold?” Martín asks, voice slurring as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

Tokyo throws Andrés an incredulous look. “I don’t know, Palermo. I think he wants to use what we’ve got in the escape. Plan Belfast.”

“Fast,” Martín repeats nonsensically and Andrés sighs.

“Tokyo, when did the Professor say he wants to implement Plan Belfast?”

“Twelve hours from now, he said he’d contact you in three.”

Andrés nods. “Alright. You and Denver can go and help in the forge then if Rio and Stockholm are alright watching the hostages. Helsinki, how is his leg looking?”

Helsinki sighs, cutting the thread with which he had been sewing up Martín. “I did my best, the bullet is out, I didn’t see damage to the arteries, but he needs doctor once we’re out to make sure.”

Martín hiccups. “Helsi,” he murmurs and Andrés tries to supress his surge of jealousy.

“Okay, well you should go and get something to eat,” Andrés says through gritted teeth. “I’ll stay here and watch Palermo and Nairobi. Let me know immediately if there’s a problem, okay?”

Helsinki nods and gets to his feet, but not before patting Martín’s uninjured leg gently.

Once he’s gone, Andrés finally lets go of Luca and coaxes Martín into sitting up. “Come on, let’s go, you can’t sleep on a table.”

It’s a little tricky but he manages to get Martín – and by extension Luca – upright enough to shuffle him over to the couch. Andrés positions Martín on it so he’s fully stretched out and then lifts Martín’s head so he can sit down, placing his head on his thigh.

Martín passes out almost immediately and Aethra, clearly feeling left out, jumps up, wedging herself in the triangular space between Andrés’ thigh, Martín’s shoulder and the back of the sofa.

Andrés sighs and strokes Martín’s hair, determinedly not thinking about how he almost lost him. Now he needs to focus on getting them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this is not good, but my eye keeps twitching so I'm going to sleep instead of proof-reading


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter kids, here we go...  
> TWs for.... only canon-typical violence and swearing i think??

Plan Belfast is a stupid fucking plan. Martín and Luca said so when Sergio first explained it to them and Martín is happy to say it again when he wakes up with his head swimming from the morphine, two bullet holes in his leg, and a traumatised Luca on his chest.

“It’s what the Professor wants, Palermo!” Tokyo protests and Martín scowls.

“I don’t give a fuck what the Professor wants. We can’t just walk right out pretending to be hostages. Two of us can’t even walk properly,” he says, gesturing between himself and Nairobi who is sitting propped up against Bogota.

Beside him, Andrés, who has an arm around him and Aethra on his lap, sighs. “You’re right, I agree with you. But we don’t have another option. We just have to trust that the Professor, Lisbon, and Marseille will do their jobs and get us out.”

The radio buzzes and Andrés removes his arm from around Martín to grab it.

“Professor, it’s Berlin,” he says and Martín tightens a hand in Luca’s fur.

“Berlin,” Sergio’s voice is fuzzy but clear enough to be understood. “We’re in position and the Colonel has agreed to stand down while we release the hostages. As predicted, he thinks we’re desperate. Thirty minutes until extraction. Separate the hostages now.”

“Understood, Professor, see you soon,” Andrés says, before putting down the radio. “Okay everyone knows their rendezvous points right?” There’s a murmur of agreement and Andrés continues. “Good. Helsinki, Tokyo, Rio, and Denver go and separate the hostages into two groups. Lock the group that’s staying in the big library. I want everyone else in the lobby with masks and guns.”

The four of them nod and Berlin turns to Bogota and Stockholm. “Stockholm, stay here with me and Paquita. We need to get Palermo and Nairobi ready to walk. Bogota, go down to the foundry and start sending the gold pouches up in the elevator, understood?”

“Yes,” Bogota says and leaves with a lingering look at Nairobi, Pamela scampering after him.

“What do you need me to do?” Stockholm asks.

Andrés looks at Nairobi. “How well can you walk?” he asks her and Martín sort of zones out as she talks.

She grimaces. “Not that great. Maybe if someone supports me?”

“We could have the hostages link arms, or kind of wrap and arm around each other? That way it won’t look suspicious if someone helps Nairobi?” Stockholm suggests.

“Not just a pretty face,” Martín mumbles to himself.

Andrés snorts a rather undignified laugh and pats his shoulder as Stockholm turns red. “No more painkillers for you cariño.”

“What about me? I can’t walk properly either?” Martín asks, gesturing angrily as the gravity of the situation works its way through the morphine haze again. “And not just because I’m tired like Nairobi, but because I can’t put weight on my fucking leg.”

“Hey, I was shot too!” Nairobi says, scowling at Martín and Prospero growls from where he’s draped across her legs.

Luca, who up until this point had been content to lie on Martín’s chest, raises his head and issues a warning hiss at Prospero.

“Everyone calm down,” Andrés orders and Martín shivers when Andrés runs a finger down Luca’s spine. Luca purrs and Martín can feel the vibrations deep in his ribcage. “Stockholm what do we have left in the medical kits?”

She frowns as she sorts through them. “Mostly gauze and stitches. Some painkillers and sedatives and also some antibiotics.”

“Paquita what do you think?” Andrés asks gesturing at Martín before his hand comes to settle on the back of Martín’s neck.

Paquita frowns and her Labrador daemon whines as she pats his head. “We could maybe try to brace it. With a plank of wood and some gauze? It wouldn’t be ideal and he’d still struggle but he’d be a bit better than he is now.”

Andrés hesitates, looking unconvinced. “Let’s do that,” Martín says.

“I thought you didn’t like the plan?” Andrés questions.

“I don’t,” Martín says. “But I’m not fucking staying here am I?”

“Of course not,” Aethra says loudly and Martín would have jumped if he weren’t still drugged up.

Stockholm looks surprised, but thankfully doesn’t comment. “I’ll go see if I can find something to strap Palermo’s leg to.”

“So,” Nairobi says. “This is new.” She gestures at Andrés’ casual grip on Martín’s neck and the way Aethra is practically on top of both Andrés and Martín.

“Is it?” Martín asks, wishing he could think of something better to say.

Nairobi raises a dark brow. “Alright then. I guess I was wrong about you two.”

“It’s hard to be right about things you don’t understand,” Andrés says testily just as Stockholm reappears.

“Here,” she says, waving a piece of dark would that looks like it came from a door. “Will this do?”

“It should do,” Paquita says. “Palermo can you stand? I’ll strap you up then.”

Martín nods and Luca slides off his chest. Andrés puts Aethra on the floor and gets up first so he can offer Martín his arm. Martín gratefully grabs Andrés’ forearms and hauls himself upright.

“Wait,” Stockholm says as Paquita moves forward with gauze. “Won’t it be too obvious if he’s got that on the outside?”

“She’s right,” Andrés says, hands immediately going to the zip at the front of Martín’s jumpsuit. “And you shouldn’t have a jumpsuit with so much dried blood on it. Come on, off.”

Andrés pulls the top half off his shoulders and Martín frowns. “Can I get some privacy?”

“No time,” Andrés says gesturing to the clock on the wall above them. “Now come on!”

With Andrés and Paquita’s help, Martín manages to climb out of his bloodied jumpsuit and then has to stand still, in his underwear, while Paquita tries to stabilise his leg and Stockholm goes to fetch another jumpsuit.

It’s painful standing for that long and he has to sit down once the splint is on and catch his breath before Andrés can help him into the fresh jumpsuit.

“Okay?” Andrés asks him and Martín nods. “Then we need to go, we’ve got six minutes.”

Paquita and Stockholm each put an arm around Nairobi and Andrés grips Martín’s waist and the five of them make their way through to the lobby where the rest of the gang and just under half of the hostages are waiting.

“Put both of these pouches around your neck, one inside the jumpsuit, one outside,” Bogota is ordering the hostages.

He hands Andrés and Martín two pouches each, which are a lot heavier than they look and Martín groans at the thought of having to drag both himself and the pouches full of gold through the streets.

“Want me to take your second one?” Andrés asks and Martín nods.

Andrés slings three pouches around his neck and zips his jumpsuit over two of them. Then he lifts the remaining one over Martín’s head.

“Helsinki?” Andrés calls and when the bigger man comes over, Andrés lets go of Martín. “Helsinki hold on to him for a minute okay?”

Helsinki nods wraps an arm around Martín. As awkward as Martín feels about essentially having ignored Helsinki over the last few days, he’s grateful for the support and leans into his side, watching as Luca nuzzles at Dušan’s chest.

Andrés strides towards the hostages. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’d like to thank you all for your cooperation in this final stage of the heist. As you know the second bag you’ve been given is yours to keep, I hope you spend your gold wisely. The one on the outside I would like you to scatter like it's bird seed and the people of Madrid who are waiting outside for you are hungry pigeons. You’re doing a good thing people, you’re modern Robin Hoods,” he announces. None of the hostages look particularly convinced by his speech, but Andrés smirks anyway, confident as always.

“Good. Now I’d like you all to pick a buddy and hold on tight to them. Arms around each others waists with your outer arm free to scatter the gold. Then get in line with your buddy.” The hostages stare at Andrés a moment and he pulls his gun from his holster and cocks it. “Now, please!”

There’s a scrambling as the hostages – including Matias and the three men from the forge – get into line. Martín sees Paquita joining another older woman, but not before kissing Nairobi’s cheek.

“Very good, now everyone else listen for your buddy and then spread out among the hostages. Denver with Stockholm, Bogota with Nairobi, Tokyo with Rio, Palermo with me, and finally Helsinki with Manila,” Berlin calls.

A few hostages gasp as Manila reveals herself, stepping away from thegroup. Her hummingbird daemon flits about over her head as she waits for Helsinki.

Andrés comes back and takes over from Helsinki, fitting himself to Martín’s side and helping him fall into line. Martín is aware of Bogota doing the same for Nairobi and Tokyo getting in line ahead of them without Rio, who is waiting to open the doors.

A hand pats his shoulder and he turns his head to see Helsinki and Manila behind him. Helsinki gives him an encouraging grin and Martín winks at him.

“Time?” Andrés calls.

“Thirty seconds, sir!” Manila says from behind them.

“Everybody: Masks on!” Andrés orders, slipping the Dali mask over his face before helping Martín with his own.

Once everyone is stood with their masks on, Andrés gestures at Rio. “Doors.”

Rio hits the button and then darts over to join Tokyo.

Martín takes a deep breath and looks down at Luca and Aethra by his feet as the doors slowly open.

“It’ll be okay,” Luca says and Martín wishes he could pick him up, but he can barely carry himself right now.

“And let’s go,” Andrés calls and the line starts to move. “Wait for my signal to throw the gold.”

Martín leans as heavily against Andrés as he can without being too obvious and then they’re outside for the first time in days. He almost feels like blinking in the light even though he can’t really see very well anyway.

“Very good,” he can hear Andrés mutter as he surveys the crowd.

Martín can’t really see them, but he can hear the roar. They make it down the steps although Martín nearly blacks out from putting his foot down wrong at one point and he’s certain if it weren’t for Andrés, he’d be on the ground. Andrés squeezes his waist as they near the people who are gathered in a mass of red and Martín braces himself.

“Scatter!” Andrés yells and all around Martín he can hear gold hitting concrete. There’s a surge in noise and then there are people rushing towards them.

In seconds they’re surrounded and Martín does his best to chuck handfuls of gold grains away from people’s faces. There are bodies pressing all around him and he holds on to Andrés for dear life as they try to navigate the crowd. He’s vaguely aware of Luca in front of him and Helsinki behind him, but he’s entirely disoriented in the throng of people in red jumpsuits. Andrés just keeps dragging him forward, grip punishingly tight.

The sheer force of people moving in the opposite direction to them lessens and Martín almost starts to think Sergio’s ridiculous plan might work. Even with his damaged eyes he can see an end to the rush of people, a clearing in the crowd and a relatively empty street beyond that.

“Almost there, mi amor,” Andrés says in his ear, confirming Martín’s optimism.

“Hey!” a voice shouts from behind them. Martín turns his head and sees a police officer coming towards them. Not just any uniformed one, but someone Sergio and Lisbon had briefed them on. “You, there, stop!” Ángel Rubio yells, his kestrel daemon squawking loudly.

“Fuck,” Andrés hisses. “Just keep going.”

“Wait, I recognise your daemon. Andrés de Fonollosa stop, you are under arrest!” Ángel yells and Martín feels Andrés reach for his gun.

Except there’s a gunshot before Andrés has even drawn his pistol and Andrés jerks in Martín’s arms at the same time as Aethra and Luca both squeal.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Martín swears, grabbing the pistol from Andrés's holster and firing wildly over his shoulder with no idea who or what he might be hitting as he tries to keep moving.

Andrés groans in his ear and Martín swears again.

“No, Andrés, stay awake. I can’t do this without you, come on!” Martín says as Luca and Aethra dance around in front of his feet, trying to guide him towards the rendezvous point.

He looks over his shoulder again and sees that the crowd has scattered, but there’s no sign of Ángel which means he was either hit or went for backup. Neither are good options and Martín is running out of time. His whole body is shaking and while Andrés is still semi-conscious and stumbling along with him, Martín can feel the blood soaking his side. His leg is in agony and Martín’s heart is beating harder than it ever has in his life.

There are black spots in his already impaired vision and he is so afraid, because if he can’t go on then neither can Andrés - and then Luca and Aethra are in danger too. After what the police did to Rio, Martín doesn’t have much hope of making it out of their custody alive. Yesterday he might not have minded that, but now? He has too much to lose.

He struggles forward another few steps and then there’s someone’s hand on his shoulder. He turns, afraid he’ll see the assembled police force waiting to shoot him, but it’s Helsinki and Manila.

“Berlin,” Martín gasps. “He’s been shot. We’re not going to make it to the rendezvous with Lisbon.”

Manila, her mask pushed up onto her head, sets her face in a determined grimace. “Oh yes you are. Helsinki, take Berlin. Palermo, come here.”

Martín feels Andrés being pulled away from him and it’s only seeing Aethra willingly going with Helsinki that allows him to let go. Then Manila is ducking so his arm is over her shoulders and they’re moving again – significantly faster than Martín was managing on his own.

He keeps trying to turn to look for Andrés, but Manila forces him onwards. “No, we don’t have time. Helsinki has him, he won’t thank you for wasting time looking at him,” she says firmly and Martín nods, instead fixing his warped vision on Luca anxiously trotting ahead of them.

Suddenly there’s a brown bird diving towards Luca and Martín wants to scream, because what if it’s Ángel’s daemon, but it pulls up at the last second, skimming over Luca’s head and towards a white van. Manila’s hummingbird follows and Martín’s legs nearly give out when he realises it must be Deunoro, Lisbon’s hawk that was coming to show them the way.

The van’s back doors open and there’s Lisbon, long hair tucked up under a cap, gesturing for them to hurry. Martín barely acknowledges Lisbon saying his name, he just collapses onto the floor of the van. Manila drags him further in, Luca dancing around her feet to make sure she isn’t hurting Martín and then he’s being settled in the far corner.

“It’s okay,” Luca tells him, climbing onto his lap, pushing his face against Martín’s jaw and Martín can’t even speak just holds his daemon as Helsinki appears, mostly carrying Andrés.

Martín wants to get up and help, but Manila pushes him firmly back down again when he tries.

“Stay, Palermo,” she says and any other time he’d object to taking orders from a woman, but he’s so desperately tired he just nods.

Helsinki, Manila, and Lisbon all heave Andrés into the van and then the doors are slamming shut and someone – Martín has no idea who – is starting the van and it lurches into motion.

Raquel hits a switch and a small light flickers on. Andrés is lying on the floor next to Martín, with Manila practically on top of him, putting pressure on the bullet wound in his shoulder.

Helsinki is pressed into the corner opposite Martín, Dušan on his lap, trying to make himself as small as possible as Raquel stacks boxes and then slides what looks like a false wall into place, confining them all even further.

“If the van stops, no one makes a sound, okay?” she says as she squeezes onto the floor next to Helsinki.

Manila and Helsinki murmur affirmatives and Martín thinks he nods, but he isn’t sure. Next to him, Andrés doesn’t say anything, his face sickly pale in the low lighting.

“Andrés?” Martín whispers, reaching out to take his hand. He’s endlessly comforted by the fact that Andrés squeezes his hand in return.

“M’okay, querido,” Andrés murmurs, his eyelids fluttering. Aethra, who is crouched by his head, whines and licks his forehead.

“Come here,” Martín says and she climbs onto his lap next to Luca.

Martín moves Andrés’ hand so its lying on top of Aethra and he feels Andrés relax at the solid contact to his daemon.

“Manila, how is he?” Lisbon asks, unable to see properly from her side of the van.

Manila frowns. “He’ll be okay I think as long as we keep pressure. I think the bullet’s still in there but as long as we can remove it once we’re on the plane and get him some more blood he’ll be fine.”

“Not goin’ to let some police pig kill me,” Andrés says with a hazy grin and Martín huffs a laugh.

“I’m going to kill you, if you die now,” he tells him and Andrés manages a lopsided smirk as Aethra snuffles, hiding her face in Martín’s uninjured thigh.

“You’re not funny,” Luca sniffs and Martín strokes his head, rubbing his thumb behind Luca’s left ear.

“I’m sorry, cariño,” he tells him and Manila snorts.

Suddenly the van stops and the engine cuts out. Lisbon slowly reaches up and flicks off the light, plunging them all into darkness. Martín’s heartbeat ratchets up again and he tries to focus on Luca’s warmth pressed against his chest, Aethra’s quick puffs of breath against his leg, Andrés’ hand under his.

They hear the driver’s door slam and voices which come closer and pass right by them and then the unmistakable sound of the back door being opened. Martín presses his free hand over his own mouth, afraid of his breathing being too loud as he hears someone climb into the back of the van.

There’s a mumbled conversation that he just can’t make out and then the footsteps are retreating, leaving the van and the doors are being shut again.

The van starts up and begins moving and a few moments later there’s six knocks in a rapid pattern from the driver’s cabin. Martín thinks it’s Lisbon who breathes a sigh of relief and then the lamp is flickering on, making him grateful for even its meagre light.

Fatigue hits Martín like a tidal wave as Andrés squeezes his hand and Lisbon smiles at them. “I think we might make it,” she says and Martín nods slowly.

His body feels unbelievably heavy and his leg is throbbing in agony, still strapped to the board. He has no way of knowing if the others made it to Sergio and Marseille okay, or who will be waiting for them at the airport. But for now, in the stuffy warmth of the van he feels his eyes slipping shut.

Luca stretches up along his chest, paws on his shoulder and Martín feels his whiskers against his face when he speaks. “It’s okay, you can sleep now, Martín. It’ll be okay,” his daemon tells him and Martín lets himself embrace the black.

Martín wakes to the monotone drone of an engine. He sits up with a start, only to be pushed back down again. Luca’s head appears right in front of his face, almost too close really, but Martín strokes his back anyway.

“Look who’s awake,” a voice says and Martín turns his head to the side to see Andrés sitting up against a pile of what looks like airmail sacks.

“Andrés!” Martín says, unable to stop the stupid smile that’s spreading across his face.

Andrés looks tired and Martín can see bright white bandages peeking out from the collar and sleeve of his right shoulder, but he smiles at Martín nonetheless, hand reaching out to entwine their fingers.

“Wait, so we don’t have to use codenames anymore?” Martín hears Denver ask from somewhere behind him and he pushes himself into a sitting position so he’s propped against the same bag as Andrés.

The others are spread out across the floor of the plane, seated on the same sort of squashy, green sleeping bags that Martín seems to be on. He runs through the numbers in his head and sighs in relief when he sees everyone – including Cincinnati who is sleeping between his parents – is accounted for.

Sergio, who has an arm around a sleeping Lisbon sighs, readjusting his glasses. “I suppose it hardly matters now, Denver. Half of us knew each other anyway.”

“Half of you were sleeping with each other you mean,” Nairobi mumbles from where Martín had thought she was asleep with her head in Tokyo’s lap.

There’s a low murmur of laughter from everyone except Marseille.

“So what now, Professor?” Tokyo asks.

Martín unconsciously leans into Andrés who tucks him tightly under his uninjured arm.

“Well,” Sergio says, his hand visibly tightening on Lisbon’s waist and she stirs, blinking awake. “I mean, everyone is free to leave once we land. But… well, we’ve tried splitting up before and we’ve all seen how well that went. I wouldn’t be opposed to us staying together. For the foreseeable future at least. It’s up to you all what you’d prefer.”

There’s silence as everyone considers Sergio’s words. To be honest, Martín doesn’t care all that much. Andrés had promised that they wouldn’t be apart anymore, so as long as they’re together he isn’t bothered by who else is there.

Surprisingly, Helsinki is the first to speak. “I lost Oslo in the mint,” he begins hesitantly as everyone looks at him. “And then over the last few days I almost lost Nairobi… and Palermo,” he continues and his eyes flick to Martín who offers him a smile. “This gang, you guys, you’re my family and I don’t want to lose you all again. So, if it was up to me, we’d stay together.”

“Well said, Helsinki,” Stockholm says gently. “I agree. I want Cincinnati to grow up with a big family. And who better than you guys to be his aunts and uncles?”

Martín tries not to roll his eyes at the soft look Denver gives her as the others start to murmur their agreement.

When almost everyone has spoken, Martín feels the attention turn to himself and Andrés.

“Berlin?” Sergio asks, and Martín finds it strange that he won’t call his own brother by his real name.

Martín turns his head to see Andrés looking at him. Luca speaks before he can. “We’re with you,” the daemon tells Andrés and Martín blushes, but nods.

“Well, hermanito,” Andrés says slowly. “I doubt our expectations when it comes to housing are in any way similar. Martín and I have standards after all.” There’s some grumbling from Tokyo and Denver, and Martín sees Marseille and Bogota exchange a long-suffering look. “But provided you find adequate accommodation I don’t see why not. I’m the last person who’d want to break up a family after all.”

Martín snorts when he hears Nairobi call Andrés an asshole, and Aethra chitters at Prospero, but he just concentrates on the feeling of Andrés’ arm around him. He doesn’t much care where they end up as long as he, Andrés, Luca, and Aethra are together.

* * *

**Two Years Later**

“It’s not fair, Tío Andrés, why can’t Rafael choose what he settles as,” Paula complains, watching her daemon flit from cat to weasel to bat in quick succession.

Andrés puts his wine down with a sigh. “I’ve told you before, Paula, no one can choose or know for sure what their daemon will settle as. Even if they do have a preferred form. Look at Aethra – I had no idea that she’d settle as an arctic fox. But whatever Rafael settles as, you’ll love it, I promise you that.”

Paula pouts. “I just want him to be something cool like Luca.”

Aethra huffs at the perceived insult and Andrés strokes her head.

“What about Luca?” Martín asks, crossing the garden with said daemon clinging to his chest, fresh bottle of wine in one hand, cane in the other. Cincinnati follows him like a duckling and Andrés does his best to supress a smile.

“Paula was saying she wants Rafael to be like Luca when he settles,” Andrés says and Martín smiles as Luca jumps onto the table, nosing at Rafael who changes from a bat into a squirrel.

“He’s just so exotic. Not boring and normal,” Paula says as Luca preens.

Andrés tuts. “There’s nothing wrong with that Paula. You’ll love Rafael even if he’s a common garden sparrow.”

Paula crosses her arms. “Bird daemons are stupid.”

“Charming,” Raquel tells her daughter, abandoning her conversation with Stockholm as Deunoro clicks his beak at Rafael.

Paula doesn’t look at all chastised and sticks her tongue out at Raquel’s back when she turns away again.

“I like birds,” Cincinnati says cheerfully and his daemon Marla turns into a tiny, brightly coloured parrot which makes him laugh.

“Ugh, daemon settling. I haven’t thought about it in years,” Nairobi chimes in.

“You’ll have to soon,” Manila tells her, nodding at the bundle in Bogota’s arms.

Nairobi waves a hand dismissively. “Ibiza is one, so I’ve got what? Eleven years until we need to worry about that?”

Andrés nearly chokes on his wine when he exchanges a glance with Martín who has settled beside him on the bench, his distaste for Nairobi’s naming skills still as clear on his face as it was when she first announced it.

“You two are children,” Aethra tells them haughtily, jumping up and wedging herself between him and Martín.

Martín rubs the spot between her ears, making Andrés flush. “Aw, princesa,” he says. “You’re so mean.”

Across the table, Tokyo raises an eyebrow. “Of course you would have the world’s most judgemental daemon, Berlin.”

“Also the most beautiful,” Martín says indulgently, laughing when Luca whines. “Of course you’re the most handsome, Luca.”

Everyone else laughs, but Andrés sees Paula nodding fervently in agreement. Andrés has to say it’s a nice change from the old days in Italy, where people would stare at Luca non-stop.

Andrés stretches his arm out to pull Martín against him, hand settling on his neck, thumb idly drawing circles on the pressure point under his ear.

The others continue chatting and watching Cincinnati run about the garden they’d managed to cultivate on the island. Andrés is particularly fond of the rose bush he’d coaxed to life outside his and Martín’s bungalow and he’d more than once had to tell Cincinnati to keep his football very far away from it.

The hours while away comfortably until Stockholm and Nairobi disappear to put their children to bed. Manila then decides to force Denver to perform the dance they choreographed for their fathers as children and Andrés suspects it has a lot to do with the tequila she and Marseille had been downing all night while most of the others stuck to wine.

It ends terribly with Denver face down on the ground and Manila bent double laughing at him.

“That’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” Martín says dryly, dodging the handful of grass that Denver childishly throws at him.

“Was it the dance again?” Stockholm asks with a long-suffering air as she reappears.

Tokyo nods. “Yes it was, although I don’t think it can be called dancing.”

“Hey, look who I found!” Nairobi’s voice calls loudly before they can even see her. She rounds the corner of Sergio and Raquel’s house eventually, Helsinki on her arm.

“Where have you been, young man?” Denver teases as Helsinki blushes.

Andrés knows – as they all do – that he was on one of the bigger islands, visiting the Australian surfer he’d recently started seeing.

“Leave him alone,” Raquel says and Sergio nods his agreement. “Here, Helsinki, come and have some wine.”

“Yeah,” Tokyo says when Helsinki sits down next to her, a wicked glint in her eyes. “And then tell us what he’s like in bed.”

“Tokyo!” Rio groans, burying his face in Kate’s fur. “No one wants to know that.”

“I kind of do,” Nairobi says with a laugh.

Helsinki covers his face with one hand and Andrés takes a sip of his wine.

“Please,” Martín says dismissively. “If Helsi was involved, I can confirm it won't have mattered what the other guy was like.”

Tokyo’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline and Denver slaps Manila on the back when she chokes on the tequila shot Marseille just poured her.

“Okay, no more tequila for you,” Stockholm says as Andrés turns to look at Martín.

As per usual he looks extremely smug at the chaos he’s created, a self-satisfied smile on his face. When he sees Andrés looking at him, he just shrugs.

“Idiots,” Luca mutters, his face buried in Aethra’s long fur.

They don’t end the evening until several hours later when Helsinki has been thoroughly embarrassed, Manila has managed to drink Marseille under the table, and Sergio has cleaned his glasses approximately three hundred times.

Andrés and Martín walk home slowly, arms around each other’s waists. Andrés has Martín’s cane tucked under one arm since he doesn’t need it if Andrés is supporting him. Luca and Aethra, who’s white fur looks luminescent in the moonlight, dart ahead of them, jumping on top of and bowling each other over like puppies.

Martín is so tired that he keeps yawning against Andrés’ neck. When they reach their house, Martín stumbles straight through to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed.

Andrés follows at a slightly more sedate pace, taking the time to hang up his hat and place his shoes on the rack.

The house is nice. A lot smaller than he’s used to, but Andrés does appreciate the way the kitchen’s terrace doors open straight out onto the beach.

“How’s the leg, querido?” he asks, as he pulls Martín’s shoes off for him.

Martín frowns, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it onto the floor which earns him a pointed look from Andrés. “It’s fine, doesn’t hurt any more than usual.”

“That’s good,” Andrés says as Martín wiggles out of his shorts and dumps those on the floor too. “Would it kill you to hang them up or put them in the hamper?”

“Yes,” Martín says, crawling back up the bed. “I might die of exhaustion.”

“Sure,” Andrés mutters as he folds his own clothes away before joining Martín bed.

He pulls him into his arms so they’re pressed together in one long line.

“I still don’t think it’s fair that I got shot at and then actually shot - twice - and now I can’t see properly and have to use a cane, but you just get a sexy scar,” Martín mutters, tracing the white sunburst on Andrés’ chest.

“You don’t need the cane all the time, mi amor,” Andrés counters. “And besides, this scar isn’t sexy.”

“I heard Tokyo saying it was the other day,” Martín says.

Andrés snorts. “I wouldn’t take her word for anything. She’s the one who slept with that weird fisherman remember?”

Martín shudders, no doubt remembering the man’s strange demeanour and ugly slug daemon. “Good point.”

“Can you two please be quiet, we’re trying to sleep?” Luca’s snarky voice comes from the chaise-longue where he’s curled up with Aethra.

“Hush you,” Martín tells him as Andrés laughs.

“He’s right,” Aethra chimes in. “It’s been a very long day.”

“Bossy,” Andrés mutters, but he closes his eyes, burying his nose in Martín’s hair.

He’s almost asleep when he hears Luca speak again. “Oh and by the way, happy anniversary.”

“Huh?” Martín asks from where he was mostly asleep against Andrés’ chest. “What anniversary?”

“Of finally getting your heads out of your asses,” Aethra says. “It was two years ago today. Now, good night.”

Martín laughs, his breath warm against Andrés’ skin. “Happy ass-out-of-head-iversary then, I guess.”

Andrés presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Happy anniversary, cariño.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this was trash as always but we're done, over and out, feel free to yell at me on here or tumblr ([@hefellfordean](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com)) or twitter ([@angstypalermo](https://twitter.com/angstypalermo)) i have it all now, apparently


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